Absolution by Murder (17 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: Absolution by Murder
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Fidelma exchanged a glance with Eadulf.
‘So are you saying that Seaxwulf is not to be trusted? That he could be lying?’
‘Not so in this case of his being the go-between with Wilfrid and Étain. Wilfrid trusts Seaxwulf as he trusts no other; I presume because Wilfrid could have Seaxwulf killed or mutilated whenever he wanted. Fear makes for a sound contract of trust.
‘But Étain of Kildare had no authority to make such agreements on behalf of the Columban faction. When I saw that conniving worm Seaxwulf sneaking from Étain’s chamber, I realised what might be afoot. I went in to see Etain and demand that she be honest. She was betraying us.’
‘And how did Étain respond to your admonishment?’
‘She was angry. But candidly admitted what she was doing. She justified herself by saying that it was better to agree on unimportant matters in order to lull her opponents into a false sense of security than to be like cows with horns locked from the first moment.’
Abbess Abbe’s eyes suddenly narrowed.
‘I suddenly realise, do you think that this argument was a reason for murder? That, perhaps, I—?’
Fidelma found herself under her bright-eyed scrutiny as the abbess suddenly chuckled at the thought.
‘Murders often happen when a person loses control in argument,’ replied Fidelma quietly.
Abbess Abbe gave a low laugh. It sounded a genuine expression of mirth.
‘Deus avertat!
God forbid! It is ridiculous. Life is too precious for me to waste it on trivialities.’
‘But, according to you, the defeat of the Columban church in Northumbria was no triviality,’ pressed Eadulf. ‘It was something intense and personal. In fact, you believed that Étain was betraying her church, indeed, all you have come to believe in.’
The glance Abbe cast at Eadulf was unguarded for a moment. A look of venomous hate. The features froze in a Medusa-like graven image. Then the look was gone and the abbess forced a cold smile.
‘It was not a matter to kill her over. Her punishment would be to see her church destroyed.’
‘At what time did you leave Étain?’ Fidelma demanded.
‘What?’
‘When, after this quarrel, did you leave Étain’s
cubiculum
?’
Abbe was quiet as she considered the question in order to make an accurate answer.
‘I can’t remember. I was with her only ten minutes or a little more.’
‘Did anyone see you leave? Sister Athelswith, for example?’
‘I don’t believe so.’
Fidelma glanced with a silent question at Eadulf. Her companion nodded agreement.
‘Very well, Mother Abbess.’ Fidelma stood up, causing Abbe to follow suit. ‘We may wish to ask you a few more questions later.’
Abbe smiled at them.
‘I shall be here. Have no fear. Indeed, sister, you really should visit my house at Coldingham and see for yourself how much life can be enjoyed. You are far too beautiful, too youthful and
exuberant to accept this Roman concept of celibacy all your life. Indeed, didn’t Augustine of Hippo write in his
Confessiones:
“Give me chastity and continence, but not just now”?’
Abbess Abbe gave a throaty laugh and left the room, leaving Fidelma blushing fiercely.
She turned to meet Eadulf’s amused gaze and her outraged virtue gave way to anger.
‘Well?’ she snapped.
The smile came off Eadulf’s face.
‘I do not think Abbe would have killed Étain,’ he said hurriedly.
‘Why not?’ she rejoined curtly.
‘She is a woman, for one thing.’
‘And a woman is incapable of committing a crime?’ sneered Fidelma.
Eadulf shook his head.
‘No; but as I said when we first saw the body of Etain, I do not think a woman had the strength to have held the abbess and cut her throat in the manner that it happened.’
Fidelma bit her lip and calmed down. After all, she thought to herself, why was she growing angry? Abbe was surely complimenting her and stating a fact. Yet it was not Abbe’s attitude that annoyed her. It was something deep within her that she was unable to fathom. She stared at Eadulf for a moment.
The Saxon monk returned her gaze bemused.
Fidelma found that she dropped her eyes first.
‘What would you say if I told you that I saw Brother Taran, a Columban monk, meeting with Wulfric by the side gate of the abbey this evening and engaging in what looked like a conspiratorial conversation?’
Eadulf raised an eyebrow.
‘And are you telling me this as fact?’
Fidelma confirmed it with a nod.
‘There could be many reasons for such a meeting, I suppose.’
‘There could,’ agreed Fidelma, ‘but none that I am content with.’
‘Brother Taran was one of Abbess Étain’s visitors, wasn’t he?’
‘One we have not questioned yet.’
‘It was not a priority,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘Taran was seen to have gone to Étain’s
cubiculum
early in the morning. She was seen alive long after his visit. It was Agatho who was the last known visitor.’
Fidelma hesitated a moment.
‘I think we should have a word with Taran next,’ she said.
‘And I think now we should first ask Agatho to come and speak with us,’ he replied. ‘He is by far the more important suspect.’
No one was more surprised than Eadulf when Fidelma acquiesced without argument.
Agatho was a lean, wiry man with a thin, narrow face. His skin was swarthy and his face was not smooth-shaven. His black eyes matched the blackness of his thatch of hair. The lips were thin but red, almost as if he had enhanced their redness by the application of berry juice. Fidelma was fascinated by the way his eyelids were prominent, half closed like the hooded lids of a bird of prey.
The priest scowled as he entered the room.
‘I am here under protest,’ he said, speaking in the
lingua
franca
of Latin.
‘I shall note your protest, Agatho,’ Fidelma replied in the same language. ‘With whom shall I raise the matter? With the king, Bishop Colman or the Abbess Hilda?’
Agatho raised his face in a disdainful gesture as if it were beneath him to reply and proceeded to seat himself.
‘You wish to question me?’
‘You would seem to be the last person to see the Abbess Étain alive in her
cubiculum,’
Eadulf bluntly pointed out.
Agatho chuckled mirthlessly.
‘Not so.’
Fidelma frowned.
‘Oh?’ she prompted eagerly.
‘The last person to see the abbess would be the person who killed her.’
Fidelma stared at his hooded eyes. They were cold and expressionless. She could not tell whether he was challenging her or making fun of her.
‘That is true,’ Eadulf was saying. ‘And we are here to discover just who did kill her. At what time did you go to her cell?’
‘At four o’clock precisely.’
‘Precisely?’
Again the mirthless smile on the thin red lips.
‘So the clepsydra of the redoubtable Sister Athelswith had informed me.’
‘Just so,’ conceded Eadulf. ‘Why did you go there?’
‘To see the abbess, naturally.’
‘Naturally. But for what purpose did you wish to see her?’
‘I create no deception. I am of the Roman faction. It was my belief that the Abbess Étain was being misled in allowing herself to speak for the heresies of the Columban church. I went with her to plead my case.’
Fidelma stared at the man.
‘That is all’?’
‘That is all.’
‘How would you achieve this rapid change of mind in the abbess?’
Agatho looked round conspiratorially and then smiled.
‘I showed her this …’ He reached into the
crumena,
a leather pouch carried on a strap around his neck, and spilt the contents into his hand.
Eadulf leant forward, frowning.
‘It is just a splinter of wood.’
Agatho looked at him contemptuously.
‘It is the
lignum Sanctae Crucis,’
he pronounced, his voice
hushed in awe and genuflecting as he did so.
‘Truly, this is the wood of the true cross?’ whispered Eadulf, reverence overcoming him.
‘I have said as much,’ replied Agatho distantly.
Fidelma’s eyes brightened and for a moment or two there was a trembling around her lips.
‘How would the presentation of this, supposing you are right, have convinced the abbess to support Rome rather than Iona?’ she asked solemnly.
‘That is obvious. By recognising the true cross in my hands she would realise that I was the chosen one, that Christ spoke through me, as he spoke through Paul of Tarsus.’
The voice was quiet and complacent.
Eadulf shot a bewildered glance at Fidelma.
‘Christ chose you? How do you mean?’ he asked.
Agatho sniffed as if the monk were a fool.
‘I speak only what is true. Have faith. I was instructed to go to the woods beyond Witebia and in a clearing a voice told me to pick up a splinter from the ground for it was the
lignum Sanctae Crucis.
Then the voice told me to go and preach to those misled and confused. Have faith and all will be revealed!’
‘Did Étain have faith?’ queried Fidelma gently.
Agatho turned towards her, his eyes still hooded.
‘Alas, she did not. She was still bound for she could not see the truth.’
‘Bound?’ Eadulf sounded more than confused.
‘Did not the blessed apostle John say “the truth shall make you free”? She was confined. She had not the faith. The great Augustine wrote that faith is to believe what you do not yet see; the reward for that faith is to see what you believe.’
‘What did you do when the Abbess Étain rejected your
argument?’ Eadulf said hurriedly.
Agatho drew himself up in outraged dignity.
‘I withdrew, what else should I do? I did not want to contaminate myself with an unbeliever.’
‘How long were you with Étain of Kildare?’
The man shrugged.
‘No more than ten minutes or less. I showed her the true cross and told her that Christ spoke through me and that she must accept Rome. When she treated me as a child, I withdrew. I knew she was beyond all hope of salvation. That is all.’
Eadulf exchanged another glance with Fidelma and smiled at Agatho.
‘Very well. We have no more questions. You may go now.’
Agatho slipped the sliver of wood back into his
crumena.
‘You both believe now – now that you have seen the true cross?’
Eadulf kept his smile fixed, perhaps a little too fixed.
‘Of course. We will speak with you about this later, Agatho.’
When the priest left the room, Eadulf turned with a worried glance to Fidelma.
‘Mad! The man is absolutely mad.’
‘If we remember that we are all born mad,’ replied Fidelma phlegmatically, ‘then many of the mysteries of the world are explained.’
‘But with such attitudes this Agatho might well have killed the abbess when she refused to accept his faith.’
‘Perhaps. Somehow I am not convinced. But out of all this there is one firm conclusion we can make.’
Eadulf stared at her.
‘It is obvious.’ Fidelma smiled. ‘Sister Athelswith, in observing all the visitors to Étain’s
cubiculum,
did not see every
visitor. And I doubt whether she saw the visitor who killed Étain.’
There was a soft knock at the door and Sister Athelswith put her head into the chamber.
‘Oswy the king asks that you join him in Mother Hilda’s chambers immediately,’ she said apprehensively.
Sister Fidelma and Brother Eadulf stood silently before the king. Oswy was alone in the room and turned from the window, where he had been gazing down at the harbour below. The frown of anxiety that he wore lightened a little.
‘I sent to ask you whether you have any news for me yet? Are you any closer to discovering the culprit?’
Fidelma heard the stress in his voice.
‘We have nothing concrete to report as yet, Oswy of Northumbria,’ she replied.
The king bit his lip. The lines on his face deepened.
‘Have you nothing to tell me at all?’ There was almost a pleading tone in his voice.
‘Nothing of use.’ Fidelma remained calm. ‘We must proceed cautiously. Is time suddenly pressing that you wish the matter to be resolved more quickly than you did before?’
The king heaved his great shoulders in an indeterminable gesture.
‘You are ever perceptive, Fidelma. Yes. Tensions are growing.’ Oswy hesitated with a sigh. ‘There is civil war in the air. My son Alhfrith now plots against me. There are rumours that he is gathering warriors to drive out the Irish religious by force while my daughter Aelflaed is rumoured to be gathering those who support the church of Columba to defend the abbeys against Alhfrith. All it needs now is but a single spark and this whole kingdom will erupt in flames. Both sides accuse the other
of the death of Étain of Kildare. What am I to tell them?’
There was a desperation in the king’s voice. Fidelma felt almost sorry for him.
‘We can still tell you nothing, my lord,’ Eadulf insisted.
‘But you have questioned everyone who saw her just before her death.’
Fidelma parted her lips in a mirthless smile.
‘Doubtless this has been reported to you from a good source. Perhaps Sister Athelswith?’
Oswy made an uncomfortable gesture of affirmation.
‘Is it a secret then?’
‘No secret, Oswy,’ replied Fidelma. ‘But Sister Athelswith ought to be more cautious than to report our activities lest they come to the wrong ears. There is still one person whom we have not yet questioned.’
‘I asked Sister Athelswith specifically to let me know when you had finished your questioning,’ Oswy said defensively.
‘You said just now that your son Alhfrith plots against you,’ Fidelma said. ‘Did you mean that seriously?’
Oswy raised his arms and let them fall in a motion indicating indecision.
‘A king has no friends in ambitious sons,’ he said heavily.
‘What ambition does a king’s son have but to be king?’
‘Alhfrith wishes to be king?’
‘I made him petty king of Deira to contain his ambition but he wishes the throne of the entire kingdom of Northumbria. I know it. He knows I know it. We play a game of dutiful son and father. But the day may well come …’
He shrugged with eloquence.
‘An investigation like this takes time,’ Fidelma said soothingly. ‘There are many considerations to be taken into account.’
Oswy stared at her for a moment and then grimaced.
‘You are correct, of course, sister. I have no right to put pressure on you. Your search is for truth. But mine is to keep a kingdom from being divided and destroying itself.’
‘Do you really think that the people are so firmly convinced by one faction or the other as to fight each other?’ queried Eadulf.
Oswy shook his head.
‘It is the people manipulating religion not the religion itself that threatens to break the peace of this land. And Alhfrith is not above using religion to motivate people to help him in his search for power. The longer people speculate on who killed Étain of Kildare, the longer they will have to formulate preposterous theories to fuel their prejudices.’
‘All we can say, Oswy, is that as soon as we are near the solution, you will be the first to know,’ Fidelma said.
‘Very well. I will remain content with that assurance. But remember what I say – there are many rumours being voiced abroad. Much depends on this assembly and the decisions we reach here.’
 
As they walked back through the cloisters from the Abbess Hilda’s chambers to the
domus hospitale
Eadulf suddenly said:
‘I think your suspicions are right, Fidelma. We should speak with this Taran.’
Fidelma raised her brows with a mocking smile.
‘And you know what my suspicions are, Eadulf?’
‘You believe that there is a plot afoot, hatched by Alhfrith of Deira, to overthrow Oswy and use the tensions of this synod as the means to create civil war.’
‘I do believe that,’ Fidelma confirmed.
‘I think you believe that Alhfrith, working through Wulfric and perhaps Taran, had Étain of Kildare killed to create this tension.’
‘It is a possibility. And we must endeavour to discover if it is true or not.’
Fidelma and Eadulf were entering the
officium
of Sister Athelswith, which they had made their centre, when the solemn toll of the midnight Angelus bell began to sound.
Fidelma heaved a sigh as Eadulf immediately took out his prayer beads.
‘It is late now. Tomorrow we will meet with Taran,’ she announced. ‘But don’t forget that you are to make enquiries about Athelnoth’s background. At the moment, I still have suspicions about Athelnoth.’
Brother Eadulf nodded his head in agreement while he began to recite the Hail Mary:
Ora pro nobis, sancta Dei Genetrix
Pray for us, O Holy Mother of God.
The bell announcing the serving of the first meal of the day, the
jentaculum,
had ceased to toll, and the grace had already been said, when Sister Fidelma slid into her place at the long wooden refectory tables. The sister chosen as the reciter of the day was a member of the Roman faction and had taken her place at the lectern at the head of the table, frowning disapprovingly as Fidelma joined them.
‘Benedicamus, Domino,’
she greeted frostily.
‘Deo gratias,’
responded Fidelma with the others.
The sister then intoned the
Beati immaculati
which preceded the reading and they began to eat.

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